


TelmaH

by Archangelsings



Category: Lercy, Nicery, Percabeth - Fandom, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Perico, nuke
Genre: Acting, Child Abuse, Film making, Insomniatic!Nico, M/M, Rocker!Percy, Smoking, WTF Love triangles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangelsings/pseuds/Archangelsings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico di Angelo,is a young aspiring director with dreams of burying his dark past behind a bright new future in the art of cinematography. Of course to do that he needs to make his mark and the annual school film festival is just the place to accomplish that. Luckily for him he's blessed with a talented crew of would be film makers, unluckily they're up against just as talented teams and of course some pasts hate being forgotten... Unbeta'd SORRY FOR THE ERRORS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New York, New York

**Author's Note:**

> In which Nico meets Percy and tells him to stop smoking... it doesn't really work. (Unbeta'd maybe soon though... if anyone volunteers?)

**Chapter One: New York, New York**

New York City.

Bright lights and sex. Hustle and bustle. Noir and class. Cigarettes and neon signs. Smog and congestion. Shouts and crowds, smells young and old, constantly mingling, constantly changing, evolving. This is Nico's city, the city of his dreams, his Paris, the Empire State Building his Eiffel Tower, Broadway his Louvre, Central Park his Seine.

Dark apathetic eyes framed by curls as black as coal stared out the airport window, pale pink lips opened to release a much needed yawn, arms stretched upward; back popping, shoulders cracking, removing the stiffness of his ten hour flight as blood slowly returned to his tense limbs. His small brown messenger bag hung lazily over his shoulder wrinkling the black vest he wore and shifting his loose red scarf ever so slightly out of place. Not that he'd notice. No, he was too busy admiring this city,  _his_ city, the city that at the end of these three and a half years would know his name and shiver in excitement upon hearing it.

New York City.

Timeless, ageless, shrouded in history and mystery, a story just waiting to be discovered, waiting to be written, waiting to be found, loved, cherished. One lost behind the layers of deceit and coercion that went into making this city the powerhouse it was, one that Nico was determined to find.

The young Italian-American spotted his bags circling around on the conveyor belt, black combat boots tapping noisily against the ground with a dull thud leaving a light trail of mud in his wake, he hoisted them up with a grunt. Two large black suitcases, that's all he had, all he brought with him, all his life contained.

He felt the curious stares on his back, the condescending upturned noses, the snickers of ladies who thought they were better than him, who probably  _were_  better than him. Because of that he said nothing, looked at no one, remained disconnected from everything; he may enter this city trailing mud on his shoes and on the wheels of his bags, but he'd be leaving in gold and stars. He had to keep telling himself that, otherwise everything would be for nothing.

It was well past midnight here in New York and the night crawlers stood on street corners, leaning languidly on lamp posts, ruby lips puckered in an ever so sensual manner, skin goose bumped in the crisp winter air. Drunken business men walked down the street trailing laughing escorts on their arms, women that their wives would never know about, the raunchy nightlife going strong.

Nico shivered and drew his scarf closer to him, wishing he'd had the forethought to wear a coat as he watched his breath fog the air in front of him. It wasn't snowing, not yet, but the chill was enough to make him tense his shoulders and shove his fists into his pockets, silently thanking the fact that he'd at least thought to call the taxi before stepping outside.

"Amanda Palmer,  _On an Unknown Beach_ ," He mumbled, taking his dying I-Pod from his pocket and putting his Beats in his ears.

Nico shoved his hands back in his pockets as her voice - soft as silk, almost a whisper - filled his ears. His own little world, filled with her ballad, sending a gentle breath over the scene before him, calming and depressing; casting a new light of pity on the poor girl in the red dress with her breasts almost popping out of its corners. He closed his eyes, leaning up against the glass window, head and curls bobbing gently in time with the music, fingers and toes tapping the rhythm in their confines. The Soundtrack of Life.

He could see it, could see it all, each small seemingly insignificant aspect fitting like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. A well conducted orchestra. A symphony. The actress, the lighting, the cinematography, he could see it all from his imaginary directors chair. He could see it, he could make it, he could breath life into it. It was one of the only things he was good at. Art.

Dim lights with thin black gels would tinge the scene before him in black forcing the viewer to focus on the one bout of color, the solitary spotlight. A pale blue gel would be set to lightly tint her face, illiciting an emotion of sadness, one that was drudged up from the subconscious making her appear all the more relatable, three different cameras, three different angles, three different shots, all of them molded together with this song, this melancholy. He wouldn't change anything about the girl, well maybe he'd make it snow, but everything else was already perfect, all he needed was the camera, the thing to capture the moment for all eternity on film. That's how he'd direct it at least.

The smell of cigarette smoke wafted through his nose and he coughed, opening his eyes; simultaneously turning down the volume on his I-Pod, shooting a glare at the man standing a few feet away. One A.M smoke? Ridiculous.

Nico cleared his throat, masking another cough. "Mind putting that out? Might save yourself a few years."

The man glanced in his direction a  _'Do I look like I care?'_ look plastered on his face. "You think I give a fuck?" He asked, lips working around the cigarette, muffling his voice slightly, still he took it out his mouth and put it out with his foot. "Happy?"

Nico nodded. "Thanks." He turned away and put the volume back up on his I-Pod, Dillon Francis's  _I.D.G.A.F.O.S_ , playing its loud gross beats in his ears. A small half smile crossed his lips, finding the title strangely fitting.

"Hey," The man snapped his fingers, a smirk on his lip, "You owe me another cigarette."

Nico flicked the left bud out of his ear and rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to give you a nickel for your loss."

"More like a quarter, these fuckers aren't cheap." He patted his pant pocket as he did so, it must've been where he kept them.

Nico managed a small almost apathetic smile. "All the more reason to quit then."

He shrugged, Nico was beginning to notice a slight twang to his voice, like it wanted to be southern but at the same time wanted to be something else less definable, it was interesting. "Can't. Addicted." The man said scratching the five o'clock shadow that clung to his jaw. It was brown, Nico noted, unlike the black and maroon hair that donned his head; he must dye it then.

"Never say can't, you won't accomplish anything like that," Nico yawned and rolled his neck, eyes drooping slightly, he hadn't managed to sleep properly for the past three days and now he was starting to feel it.

"Tired?" The man asked, maroon bangs falling into his face, the light glinting off his many piercings; two hoops at the top of each ear and a black gage in each earlobe.

"You have no idea." Nico mumbled, his voice dry and almost toneless as he responded.

The rocker, as Nico decided to classify him, nodded in agreement, green eyes staring up at the almost starless sky as if it had some secret to tell him.

"James Blake, _Retrograde_ ," he breathed as he stared at the rocker. With maroon hair and piercings through his ears, he made an intimidating figure for sure, but his eyes, they showed a much deeper meaning. In that moment Nico saw that there was so much more to this stranger than his exterior would suggest. There was real pain behind those eyes, real intelligence and Nico knew that whatever glimpse he was getting now was nothing compared to what he could truly be.

The rocker turned back to him, shaking his head slightly as if shaking off a dream. "What?" He asked.

Nico jumped, almost managing to appear shocked, though the dull apathy in his brown eyes destroyed any chance of that being conveyed. "Nothing."

The rocker made a face, one that Nico couldn't read, and shrugged. "Okay then."

It was then the taxi decided to pull up, cutting off whatever response Nico might have had as the driver got out. "Which one of ya' is di Angelo?" Nico lifted his head and looked at the man. "Me," He replied.

The cabbie nodded his head. "'Kay then di Angelo, getcha bags and hop in." He turned and called over his shoulder. "Where too?"

"Twenty One East Fifty Second Street," Nico said rolling his bags to where the cabbie had opened his trunk. "The Omni."

"Could've just said that kid."

"Sorry."

"No you ain't."

"True."

The cabbie laughed and Nico began to get in the taxi, but then he remembered the rocker and turned. "Do you want a ride? I don't mind sharing."

The rocker shook his head. "Nah, my cab'll be here soon."

Nico shrugged. "Okay," He yawned and offered a small two fingered wave. "Cya around..."

The rocker smirked "Percy," He waved back, an imitation of Nico's own, just cooler, like it actually belonged to him. Nico was too detached to make anything physical really seem to be his own.

"Nico," Nico said stepping in the cab. "Cya."

"Cya."

He closed the door behind him, almost gagging as the scent of stale smoke and sweat hit his nose. "Shit."

The cabbie looked at him through his rear view mirror. "'Scuse the scent kid, just the sweet aroma of working class people." He laughed. "Never seems to go away no matter how hard I scrub out those seats."

Nico inhaled through his mouth. "Lovely," his tone implied that it was anything but.

The Italian scrolled through his playlist, settling on a jazz tune,  _Endless Journey_  by Peter White, the perfect road song, the type of song that made you think of late night drives in the city, rolling by neon lights and flashing icons, your head resting against the cold glass in an apathetic daze. It spoke to Nico perfectly.

The cabbie talked and Nico listened... kind of, it was more along the lines of the cabbie talked, spewing out random facts about the city like where the best Chinese food was, what show was playing on Broadway where the closest subway station could be found and Nico would nod his head occasionally, more pre-occupied with the layout of the city. With the old architecture mixed with the new, the modern with the antique.

He'd lived in cities all his life but he'd never seen one that was so condensed so...  _up_. That's all it did, this city didn't spread like many metropolis did, they just built taller buildings, adding level upon level to buildings that looked like they belonged in the seventeenth century and adding a modern flare to it. That's what was considered hip now a days. You could see it all over the Academy awards.

The taxi took a left then kept on going straight, yelling out a few choice words to reckless night time drivers before finally pulling up to the hotel. Not a moment too soon Nico mused as his I-Pod sputtered out of power, stopping in the middle of the next song Ellie Goulding's  _Only You_.

"Here we are." The cabbie grunted giving Nico a tired wave. It must suck to have the night shift.

Nico stepped out of the cab and tossed the driver a hundred dollar bill. "Keep the change." He really couldn't be bothered with being exact right now, it was going on two a.m, he hadn't slept in, now, close to four days, and in just a mere four hours he'd be up again and repacking his bags heading across the street to finally start his first day at his new school.

Nico trudged up the steps to the lobby of the Omni Hotel wondering again why he even booked a hotel in the first place if he wasn't even going to be able to really enjoy it. He yawned, all he really wanted to do was sleep but that wasn't going to be happening tonight, he could feel it, that and the pills burning a hole in his pocket, the medicine for his insomnia.

He debated taking them while he checked into the hotel, his name nothing more than a scrawl on the ledger, the bags under his eyes probably looking closer to bruises, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Better to suffer a few more hours awake than over sleep and miss his appointments. That would be a wonderful first impression.

"Welcome Mr. di Angelo, we hope you enjoy your stay," The receptionist said in an annoyingly chirpy voice that sounded like she'd had too much caffeine.

Nico said nothing, just grunted and slumped his shoulders, his head hung and limp, almost lifeless as he dragged his bags up to his room. Maybe they'd even have halfway decent coffee he could make when he got inside, then the only thing he'd have to do would be to lay awake and stare at the dimly lit ceiling counting the seconds left until he could finally get on with his life. Hey, he could dream right?

Nico finally found his room on the fifth floor and stepped inside tossing his shoes off behind him, immediately finding an outlet and plugging in his I- Pod before flicking on the T.V and turning it to some miscellaneous weather channel. The volume was on low, really on just for the comfort, for a steady hum in the background to distract himself from his thoughts as he stripped out of the black vest and flung his scarf behind him without another thought. Coffee, he needed to find the coffee, his body was definitely getting low on caffeine, he could feel the subtle throbbing headache coming on from the lack of his caffeine fix.

Or maybe that was just because he hadn't slept in three days.

He shrugged to himself as he tossed his tight fitting black shirt aside leaving him in his skinny jeans, socks, and white tank top. He had a feeling it was the latter but couldn't truly bring himself to care. To care would require energy, to  _think_  would require energy, and if he's being honest with himself he's surprised he can even perform  _one_ of those functions semi decently. Nico yawned and strolled to the small kitchenette attached to the sitting room, the buzz from the T.V following his every move.

Thankfully there  _was_  coffee, at least this hotel was good for one thing, though it was doubtless some cheap knock off brand he'd never drink again, but he didn't care, he was desperate and desperate people did stupid things. That and make asinine comments to themselves. He wondered how many people thought he was crazy, probably a lot.

The coffee maker beeped and Nico reached into the kitchen cabinet, pulling out a clean cup, his tank top riding up his chest showing off more ivory skin and poured a glass. It was bitter and gross on his tongue but the caffeine went straight to his brain, the nervous jitter associated with caffeine acting almost immediately.

Walking back to where he dumped his bags he opened one and took out his bag of toiletries full of soap, his toothbrush, cover up he'd deny having on his deathbed; he still had three hours to kill, he could spend them getting ready. Anyone who said Nico didn't care about his appearance obviously didn't know him very well.

Three hours later he was packed up and ready to go, headphones hanging from his V-neck shirt, I-Pod charged, aviator jacket on, hair styled to a T, and his bags virtually unnoticeable with a thin layer of cover up. He even decided to spray on a dash of the cologne he got imported from Paris, Earthly Jewels. Crap title but smelled divine.

He tossed the empty mug into the sink and headed out the door, he didn't have to check out till noon so that meant he didn't have to lug his bags around with him yet. He could come get them later. All he had with him was his aging brown messenger bag slung on his shoulder and a fedora on his head. It completed the hip modern look in his opinion.

Sending the overly chipper receptionist a wave he quickly waltzed through the entrance of the hotel and jaywalked across the street, only glancing fleetingly in front of him, his eyes locked on the street, making sure he didn't get hit, that was probably why he didn't see the man in front of him and instead collided solidly with his chest.

"Hey! Watch it ass-," The voice started, but by then Nico had turned back around. "Sorr- _Percy_?!" Nico said incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

Percy smirked, his black and maroon hair styled into a Mohawk today, his five o'clock shadow gone, the gages in his ear now blue instead of black. "Getting run over by short stacks apparently."

Nico gaped and Percy just continued to smirk, obviously enjoying Nico's obvious bafflement. "Aren't you like... a rocker or something?"

"Yeah."

"And this is a film school."

"Yeah."

"So, you're here because... ?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Stereotypical much, I take offense to that," he faked a bow. "I, my friend, am an actor." He rolled his "r" at the end in an exaggerated fashion, his voice for a second taking on a different accent entirely before he looked back up at Nico, his, what Nico has decided to call, trademarked smirk on his lips. He held out an arm. "Shall we?"

"It's six a.m."

Percy shrugged. "So."

"Why are you so loud?"

"Loud? That's a matter of opinion, I say I'm soft, therefore I am." He began climbing the steps. "Hurry up, you'll miss all the cranky assholes who got the night shift last night shortstack."

Nico groaned, and took out his I-Pod, scrolling through the playlist while he began his ascent.

_Falling Up_ , Dillion Francis.

This was looking to be an interesting year.


	2. Divas and Ass-holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nico bumps into Percy and Percy resists the urge to throttle him like the prolific asshole he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

**Chapter Two: Divas and Assholes**

_"... and how does that make you feel?" The lady tapped her pen against the clipboard in her hand, she was almost annoyingly proper, exact and direct. She didn't tolerate no for an answer and would willingly spend the entire time giving Nico a hard stare, not quite a glare, but something with so much weight that it made him feel like he was somehow letting her down by withholding any and everything from her. He learned early on it was better to just answer and not put up a fight. It's not like he was being forced into this, he'd asked his dad to sign him up after he'd come home shivering and mumbling to himself like a lunatic._

_Nico shuddered at the memory, those twelve hours still haunted his memory. Never again. Never again would he go down that road, it was dark and scary and worse than even his worst nightmare._

_Or in his case reality._

_"Like shit," He finally said, not bothering to sugarcoat anything, she wanted the unadulterated truth then he'd give it to her, she could have all the nitty gritty details, maybe then she would lay off. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I throw up anything I try to hold down. It's hell."_

_She nodded, expression unchanging. "Why do you think that is?_

_Nico gulped, his hands shaking slightly and he wet his lips with his tongue, his eyes closed. He could feel the walls closing in on him, hear the deep, sickeningly sweet voice of his father. His breath hitched and his heartbeat began to sky rocket but he still managed three simple words. "Because of him."_

_-0-0-0-0-0-0-_

Percy took a deep drag from his cigarette, a mildly annoyed scowl plastered on his face. He glared down at his hands, which were shaking slightly, and clenched them tightly together. Stop. Breath. Inhale. He took another gulp from the burning rod, breathing it in like it was life itself. He felt the smoke roll through his lungs, down his throat, in, in  _in_. Ever deeper, ever more invasive, and ever more welcome. _  
_

He held it there, letting it rest for a moment, letting it sit, enjoying the calm that came from the tobacco, the relief that came with getting his next nicotene fix. He knew he should stop. He knew it was slowly killing him; Annabeth wanted him to, Grover pleaded with him, Rachel and Thalia... the both of them were constantly riding his ass, subtly leaving pamphlets on his desk, dropping not so subtle hints during their visits to his apartment. It annoyed the living hell out of him. It wasn't like he didn't already know what the side effects of smoking were. Hell, it was the twenty first century, _everyone_ knew you could get lung cancer or heart disease or a whole nother array of death sentences, so you know what he said to all of them? Fuck 'em. All those damn prodding voices? Fuck you. All the people claiming to help him? Go suck a dick.

It's not like he hadn't tried. It's not like he didn't want to. He'd tried so many times. To quit. To change. To be a better person. But it never worked out and you know why... ?

'Cause he was stuck.

'Cause every time he got stressed or angry and wanted to punch something a smoke was almost the only thing that would calm him down. That or sex, and it wasn't like he was about to go jump Annabeth every time Luke or some other idiot rubbed him the wrong way or when Dr. K got on his nerves for the umpteenth time. Hell he wouldn't go to Annabeth 'cause sometimes she was the problem herself, she could be just as bad as the rest of them if he let her.

Percy sighed tossing the butt of the now burned out cigarette on the ground, a fiery look in his eyes that dared anyone to push his buttons. To give him an excuse to beat the shit out of someone. That was probably the reason why everyone did the exact opposite thing and stayed way out of his way. He knew he was intimidating. He knew that with his trademarked scowl and the hate in his eyes; the punk look that clung to him like a parasite that he struck fear into even some of the most toughened of hearts. He almost felt hurt by that.

Almost.

It was an annoyance, everyone expected him to be some dim, close minded ridiculous chauvinistic ass hole, but that was all a facade, there was so much more to him than that. Than those lies, those assumptions. People just couldn't see what was beneath the surface, they didn't realize just how wrong they were.

But that didn't matter, he'd rather the world hate him than let everyone else read him like an open book. That's what it all boiled down to, he hated it but he relished it. He liked that it pushed people away, everyone that he wouldn't want to be around anyway; only the strongest, most open minded were able to befriend him. The ones that wormed their way into his heart and made him want to get to know them more despite his better judgment.

Percy shoved his hands in his pocket, his jacket pulling taught against his lightly muscled frame, if anything the action made him look more sinister. It was six in the morning, dead of winter, cold enough to snow if the sky decided to grace his presence with rain, and he was trudging back to his school after getting only a few hours of sleep. Not to mention he'd just broken up with his _kinda - kinda - not - girlfriend_ Annabeth, for eh, what... the fifth time? Does it even count as a break up if he felt nothing this time? Maybe that was a sign that it really was over between them this time.

Percy scoffed, sure steps stepping on the damp sidewalk littered with yesterdays newspaper, bits of plastic and the occasional Starbucks cup. It was gross when you thought about it. Fortunately most the time you didn't, it was just another backdrop in the grand play called life that you accepted. Central park was green, beaches were almost always empty during the winter unless you wanted to freeze your balls off, and sidewalks were dirty, messy things. It's incredible how much more you took in when there was nothing beside you but your own anger.

The only good thing about being up at this hour was the fact that he was able to brood in peace, there was no one to ask what was wrong, or why the long face, or whatever other saying people seemed to feel obligated to say whenever they saw him. Didn't they realize how much that wasn't helping? Didn't they know that asking what was wrong only fueled the fire in him, the fire whose only outlet seemed to be through acting. That was probably the real reason he was heading back to school, everyone knew him there by now, and the security guards on the night shift almost always let him in the auditorium if he'd had a rough night. They'd rather him let off some steam there then have to break up a fight later. It was a win win for both parties.

The young man glanced to his left as the school building came into view. It was an inconspicuous building, looking like any other apartment complex on the block, easily missed unless you knew to look for the sign engraved on a plaque on one of the brick gate holders in front of it. He shifted his weight, lifting a foot to make it up the first step, when suddenly, a body collided into his own. Percy gritted his teeth. His first instinct was to punch. His second was to yell like the transplant New Yorker he was. The third was to smoke.

He went with the second.

Percy stumbled back and grabbed the hem of the boys jacket, the top of his head covered by a plaid gray fedora. "Watch it ass- !" he growled as the boy mumbled out a quick apology and looked up.

" _Percy_?" It was the guy from the night before, the one who had been reprimanding him for smoking. The action had been so achingly familiar at the time, that he'd almost snarked back with an egreived  _"Thalia"_  falling from his lips. He felt his hand twitch at the thought, maybe... No. He let go of the young man in place of reaching into his pocket for another cigarette; even he knew having two smokes within five minutes of each other was just asking for lung cancer.

Percy raised a brow incredulously, tone mocking. "Nico?"

"What are you doing here?" Nico asked, wide eyed surprise overtaking his features as he spoke. It was probably the most emotion he'd seen on the man so far, the gleam in his eyes had a sobering focusing effect on the both of them. On the man it belonged to, it made him look alive, like he wasn't deadpanning everything in his wake, like he actually cared about something. Percy frowned minutely to himself before responding, "getting run over by short stacks apparently," he hadn't even realized Nico had made such an impression on him until now.

Nico gaped at him, his expression reminiscent of a fish, and Percy smirked at the thought, his brows knitting together slightly when he noticed the bags underneath the young mans eyes, he knew better than to comment though. It probably wouldn't do much good to let the boy know he knew he was wearing make-up, he knew most men wouldn't enjoy having it pointed out to them. He knew even less people who would want him to casually mention that he knew that they were sleep deprived either.

That's what it all meant right? The fact that he could only see the make-up underneath his eyes, probably to cover up the faint ridges and what probably would've been dark circles under his eyes if he hadn't put any on suggested it. He also knew that if Nico went through the trouble of hiding it then he probably didn't want to talk about it, and that it happened fairly often.

He knew how annoying it was to have some one prying into your personal secrets, secrets you obviously didn't want to share. It wasn't even like it was exceedingly obvious anyway, Percy only knew because he knew what to look for, he saw the signs, he was used to seeing them on himself when he acted, seeing the masks in someones appearance was just something he'd gotten good at over the years.

Percy drew himself from his thoughts, somehow he had managed to hold a decent conversation with the raven haired man even though his mind was elsewhere, he guessed that was the only perk of being an ADHD kid, any other time having multiple scenes of focus just became cumbersome. He was now climbing up the steps of the building, his long strides forcing the shorter man to walk twice as fast while Percy's mind caught up with what had just happened.

Percy frowned to himself, lips moving down into a not amused line: apparently he'd just signed himself up to give Nico a tour of the place, if not said in so many words. He reached the top of the stairs and held the door open for the budding film maker, turning only to see that Nico had spaced out again, a headphone in his right ear, his attention on something else in space, the bland, apathetic, dead look replaced on his face. He tripped over the last stair, a piece crumbling off and making him stumble, and Nico jerked himself upright, cheeks tinting a slight pink, not even a full on blush, more like a healthy flush. It was then Percy noticed just how pale Nico was, he was like a ghost, all ivory skin and hair as dark as night. It was a fairly poetic description, he rolled his eyes, Dr. K would've been proud.

Nico glanced up at him, his eyes asking, did you see?

Percy just snorted and shook his head, fighting back a smirk, 'cause what else was there to do? How could he have not seen? If he hadn't he wouldn't deserve calling himself an actor, hell he wouldn't deserve having  _sight_ if he was that blind already.

Nico composed himself, rolling his eyes, and brushing himself off before strutting the rest of the way in, passing Percy without a word.

Percy made a face, eye twitching slightly, and closed the door behind him. "Diva," He mumbled, not really expecting his voice to carry and for Nico to hear, flailing slightly when the doe eyed boy shot him with a menacing glare.

"I heard that," He drawled.

Percy gulped and loosened the shirt around his neck... that really couldn't be loosened considering it was just a T-Shirt, he didn't care though. It was about the sentiment alright?

"I noticed."

"Don't say that again," he deadpanned, still glaring daggers at Percy, "I have a name, use it. Don't forget it."

Percy smirked again and mock bowed before shooting back sarcastically, "as you say your majesty, your wish is but my ever humble command."

Nico huffed and rolled his eyes before turning back around and calling over his shoulder, "lead the way."

Percy pushed himself from up against the door frame and walked to where the  _not - diva_ stood. "Come on," he shot Nico a look over his shoulder, playful demeanor gone. "And keep up, got it kid."

Nico made a face, and opened his mouth like he was about to snark back with some witty comeback, but Percy wasn't listening, in fact he was walking faster than before. Nico closed his mouth and let out an exasperated sigh before deciding it wasn't worth the effort and running after him.

He had a feeling he'd have plenty of chances to rile up the would be rocker in the future.

That thought was much more satisfying than it should have.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_"'Him'?" Sally asked, raising a brow at the uncomfortable stance of the boy laying down on the cou_ _ch across from her, "Who is 'he'?"_

_She watched him fidget for a few moments, her glasses settling on the bridge of her nose. She waited patiently, knowing the boy would answer her questions, she could tell he genuinely wanted to get better, to be able to face his demons with courage and strength._

_But she also knew how hard it was, how difficult it was for someone like him to open up after years of neglect and abuse. Oh yes, she already had an idea of who 'he' was, she had been de-briefed by the last man to have him, but she needed to hear it from Nico's own mouth, she needed him to hear it himself, from himself. She needed him to instill the truth, fight against, it and then ultimately accept it. It was the only way they were going to get anywhere together._

_She needed him to admit it._

_She needed to know the problem._

_Nico glanced at her, and gently wet his lips, eyes full of fear. He opened his mouth and took a breath, looked like he was about to say something but then shook his head, closing his lips again. Sally sighed and looked down at her watch, she only had five more minutes left with him before Nico would have to go, she had hoped to get this last bit out of him before he had to go... she sighed, and they had been making such good progress today too, if only she could get him to go the extra mile..._

_Her train of thought was cut off when she felt the weighty stare assessing her. She locked eyes with the teen and poured her heart out to him, hoping that at least a fraction of the hope she held bled through and registered for him. She wanted him to know that at least someone cared. That at least one person wouldn't abandon him, not like so many others that just thought him a waste of space. A mistake._

_Nico never said as much, but it was implied. She could see it in the way he always looked down when he spoke, in how he'd bunch his shoulders in when he stood to make himself look smaller. She could see it in the broken look in his eyes he held when he thought no one else was looking. She sighed, looking back down at her notes. He was a much more serious case than she'd have thought. She'd dealt with hurt, dealt with loss, she'd seen it all, from the deranged to the beaten, but she had never encountered anyone so young and yet so old. It was a wonder he was even still around. She'd seen older men kill themselves for less than what he'd gone through._

_It tore at her heartstrings, it did, filled her with such an ache that it threatened to consume her. She usually didn't take kids, but Paul had insisted, he couldn't handle him himself, but he knew he needed help. The only person Paul could think to refer him to was herself. It didn't take a lot of convincing, one look at Paul's notes was enough to get her on board. She knew she had to try. She knew she had to attempt to make a difference, to at least be the catalyst of change he needed to start to heal._

_If she could accomplish even that much she could rest in peace._

_Sally cleared her throat and Nico looked down, she would try a different approach then. "You know, some people can be assholes. Nico," she paused waiting to see if that would get him to look up. "Nico, honey look at me." Nico slowly tilted his head up, gaze full of trepidation as he held her gaze. Sally nodded in approval._

_"As I was saying, I know people can be assholes, real menaces to our egos my son could be one, heck my ex-husband definitely was one, but that doesn't mean everyone is one. Some people are just here to help." She looked at him over the rim of her glasses, letting her words sink in. "I hope you know that I'm here to help. I don't want to cause you anymore harm Nico."_

_Nico gulped and looked away, the inner struggle renewed within him. Sally waited, legs crossed over each other, pen poised over paper on the ready. The bell chimed signaling that their session was over but neither moved, Sally could feel that they were on the brink of something here, she refused to let him go before finding out what it was._

_Nico sighed and ran a hand down his face, defeated. "This is confidential right?"_

_Sally nodded. "Of course, you're the one paying, I won't share these records with anyone you don't want me to."_

_Nico nodded again, hands still over his face, taking this in, before sighing and taking in a shaky breath. "My dad." He mumbled._

_"Excuse me?" Sally asked, she knew what he was answering and it just confirmed her suspicions, but she needed him to use the full thought._

_"'He' is my dad," Nico said, sighing and turning to look at her, hands falling away from his face, coal brown stare hard with hidden defense as he worked up the nerve to finish. "Hades di Angelo."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boo-hooo more to come eh?

**Author's Note:**

> Songs used:
> 
> Amanda Palmer: On an Unknown Beach
> 
> Dillion Francis: I.D.G.A.F.O.S
> 
> Dillion Francis: Falling Up
> 
> Ellie Goulding: Only You
> 
> Peter White: Endless Journey
> 
> Look em up they're cool


End file.
